Scratch
by TheWickedQuill
Summary: Why be good when being bad is so much better? MW Complete


Title: Scratch  
Show: Dark Angel  
Genre: PWP  
Pairing: M/W  
Setting: S2 with a S1 attitude  
Rating: R  
Type: Standalone, Challenge Response, Complete  
Written for the Gumboot Mafia 'Heat' challenge)

Summary: Why be good when being bad is so much better?

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable. I just play with it.

_Author's Note: After__ rewatching__ Heat in season 1, I noticed something. Or, rather, something I may have noticed before and ignored, really stood out._

_We've (almost) all read stories about Max (or Alec or others) going into Heat and being unable to control their lust, sometimes acting b/c of it and regretting it later._

_But if anyone really remembers, 'Heat' (s01ep02) shows Max in heat, hanging out at Crash and not jumping any available guy. She does seem to find all men attractive, but she isn't unable to control herself. Later, she's riding home on her motorcycle and asks herself if she should be a good girl and go home, or... after which she goes back to Crash and picks up Eric._

_What did I learn from this? That any choices made during heat are that person's own._

_With that in mind, I wrote this._

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**SCRATCH**

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She probably could have gotten out of it the old fashioned way. How hard would it have been to act on the first viable plan that came to mind? She knew she could have pried open the wire mesh cage, could easily have taken out the guard in the security booth just down the hall; distracted as he was with old football championship reruns she heard playing in the background. She could have slipped out the doors, taken down the two sentries at the entrance to the compound and gotten away, probably in less than five minutes, total.

But there was something about her body, her cycle, the last twelve hours of it specifically, that made her want to walk on the edge and play with danger.

So when the opportunity arose, she chose not to take advantage of it, waiting instead for the director of operations, the man in charge of her capture, to reappear. She always did enjoy a good verbal volley. And it didn't hurt that he was nice to look at in the process.

"452."

Finally.

"Well, if it isn't my good friend Ames."

"I must say, I'm surprised you haven't attempted escape. I gave you ample opportunity."

She smiled at this.

"Maybe I'm just smarter than you thought."

"Perhaps. Or maybe you've just realized that you can't win."

She smirked, her eyes running over his form, slowing and taking a bit longer on some areas over others. She noted with pleasure the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, the slight change in his scent, and the odd look in his eyes when they met her own.

He then narrowed them, studying her relaxed posture despite being trapped and at his mercy.

"Something is different about you, 452."

She grinned and purred. "So you've noticed?" she said, releasing a fresh wave of pheromones she knew he could sense.

His nose twitched, as did another portion of his anatomy. He wondered at his reaction to the abomination in his custody, the filthy animal he had sworn to destroy, leader of a people he promised to eradicate.

Suddenly it hit him. Heat. She was in heat. The little he knew about the condition was clear. It was the unknown that worried him. Did she have some sort of power over the male species in her current state?

"I know what you're up to, 452. It won't work."

"Me? Up to something? You've got me locked in a cage. What could I possibly do to you in here?" The innocent look on her face combined with the mischievous gleam in her eye frustrated him, but it was the almost indiscernable movement of her hand behind her back that really caught his attention.

White slowly approached the cage, giving all appearances of a man intent on a woman when in reality he was trying to get a better look at whatever it was she held behind her back. 452 had escaped one too many times. He wouldn't lose her again.

The door to the room opened and closed again, locking behind the newcomer. "Sir?" came the questioning voice of one of his guards.

"What?" he asked, not taking his eyes from his quarry.

"Sir, there's suspect activity on the south perimeter."

White circled the cage looking for some sign of potential weapon or tool. Finally satisfied that it had been a trick of his imagination, White turned to the guard.

It was in a split second that a series of occurences came about, A distinct 'clink' was heard, a dark shape blurred before his eyes, he raised his gun and fired off a quick shot, her laughter rang in his ear and a gasp followed by a thud came from the doorway.

Somehow 452 had escaped, he had shot his guard and there she was facing him, saucy grin in place.

"Where'd you learn to shoot? You were a little off mark," she taunted, dangling a key ring before his eyes.

"You're not getting out of here so easily," he declared, glaring at the girl who continued to cause him nothing but trouble.

"Where's the fun in that anyway?"

"I've always wanted to do this," White grinned at Max.

"Do what? Fail?" she taunted again.

"No," he growled, quickly aiming and firing off a round of shots. "Pump you full of holes."

Laughter echoed and he whirled to find his elusive prey.

"Oh, you'll pump me full of something alright," she murmured, slamming into him from behind and spinning him last second so that he was backed fully against the wall.

He should have fought her, should have caught her, anything but inhale that musky scent and burn in the fire of her gaze.

Anything but that.

"Why can't I fight you? I know you're in heat, but why is it that I'm powerless to stop...this?"

Max assaulted him with hands and mouth, removing their clothing quickly and becoming one with the object of her desires.

"So you know about heat," she whispered against his throat, nipping at the sensitive flesh beneath her lips.

He moaned his pleasure and gripped her tighter around the waist, lifting her higher up and turning them both so that Max was the one pressed flat against the wall.

"Yes."

She chuckled throatily, tightening her grasp on him.

"Tiny misconception," she purred quietly. "There is no power or coercion, Agent White. This is all you." She smirked when his horrified eyes locked on her own. She smiled evilly until a wave of pleasure overcame her, biting her lip to stifle her cries as she came apart around him.

"The same as this was all me," Max added when her breathing calmed. No further words were spoken by either party. White's body shook against her, partly due to the intensity of his orgasm and partly due to the restriction of his breath beneath her small yet able hands as they crushed his windpipe.

Ames White's world exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors that was quickly overtaken by black spots and, finally, darkness.

Max lowered his unconscious form to the floor before reaching for her clothes. She placed White in the cage from which she had emerged not thirty minutes earlier and secured him inside.

She could have gone home and been a good girl, but why should she? Why be good when being bad is so much better?

FIN


End file.
